


Ingredients For Insanity

by TheLanceShow



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Be Careful What You Wish For, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), F/M, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, Lance (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Multi, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Sad Shiro (Voltron), Shiro is selling firewood to Lance ok, Sociopath Lance, Therapist Shiro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-26 19:17:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12564356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLanceShow/pseuds/TheLanceShow
Summary: Shiro is a therapist that takes pride in his work. That is, until one day, a special case walks through his door.Now Shiro doesn't know what to do because, hey, he fell in love with a sociopath.Or,The sociopath!Lance and therapist!Shiro AU that literally no one asked for.





	Ingredients For Insanity

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I wrote this like fucking three months ago and it was just chilling in my Drive

He taps his pencil eraser against his clipboard absentmindedly. Carefully, he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

His patient leans back in the couch, fingers intertwined and laying flat on his belly. His ankle is crossed over his knee and he stares blankly at the ceiling.

The silence was incredibly prolonged, and he opens his mouth, stilling his tapping.

"How was-"

"I punched a girl in the face," he interrupts, unsteepling his fingers and uncrossing his legs. He leans forward, forearms resting on his knees. "On Monday."

He tries to keep his face even, holding in the frustrated sigh he wants to express. 

"Why?"

"I felt like it," he shrugs, his gaze piercing through him. "You're not very good at hiding your emotions, Takashi."

"I told you to call me by my last name, didn't I?" Shiro asks. He attempts even harder to make his features neutral.

"Sorry," he says. It seems automatic and sincere, yet Shiro shakes his head. "Forgot."

"No, you didn't."

"Correct!" He beams at him, then smugly crosses his arms. "Damn, I'm like an open book to you."

"You're a sociopath, Lance. Some easy traits, like your inability to feel remorse, give it away." Shiro sighs and takes off his glasses, placing them on the wooden table between him and Lance. "What's the real reason you punched her in the face?"

"Well, you said to try to have, like, a sense of empathy last time I visited you." Lance shrugs a single shoulder. "This girl was getting bullied, I guess? I was about to call her a pussy--which I did--then punched the girl that was bullying her. Because empathy."

"One step forward, three steps back," Shiro mutters.

_Has not learned what needs to be said unless he gains something from it._

"Why do you come to me if you don't heed my advice?"

"I would be put in a mental asylum, duh." Lance rolls his eyes, shifting the snapback on his head so it was straight. Small, wavy brown hairs frame his face and pokes out through the space. "I wouldn't be here if not for that. Or maybe I would; you're like sex on legs. Eye candy three times a week."

"Speaking of which," Shiro starts slowly. "Your being in an asylum. You still haven't told me why."

"You're right. I haven't."

"Nothing to get off of your chest?" Shiro's brows furrow. Lance simply stares at him. "At all?"

"No," he says flatly. "If you're so God damn curious, check my records."

"Just tell-"

"I killed my little brother," Lance says without shame and another shrug of his right shoulder. Shiro feels his eyes widen. "Yeah, what did you think? I had to plead insanity, which is true; I'm cuckoo. They said either therapy three times a week for the rest of my life or zoom! Off to an asylum. I'm on, like, permanent parole.

"The judge said that you're the best therapist for 'my type'-" Lance did air quotes. "Of problems. So here I am. I feel so much better, honestly. Thank you for letting me open up to you."

Shiro would have believed it, too, with how real Lance sounds. But he wasn't telling the truth.

Lance was a special case. While other sociopaths and psychopaths that Shiro had dealt with were socially inept, he was the opposite. He had no problems in crowds and flourished in attention.

It was all part of the act.

"How do you feel about killing your brother?" Shiro asks, ready to take notes.

A sardonic smile. "What do you think?"

Writing about how Lance had no regrets would be redundant.

"How old were you?"

"Nineteen."

"How old was your brother?"

"Eleven."

Shiro could feel his jaw clench. Lance raises an eyebrow.

"You have access to my criminal records and shit. You had the power to know. And yet-" a corner of Lance's lip quirks up. "-you ask me."

Lance tilts his head. "You're angry. I bet they tell you you're good at your job. They lie to you." A wicked, smug glint appears in Lance's eyes. "You're so easy to read. Not supportive. Are you actually trying to help me? Or get rid of me?"

"Are you ready for your family to come in?" Shiro asks in what he thinks is a calm tone. "I think it's time for family therapy."

"Your choice." Lance smiles.

"I want you to take off your mask," he states with an encouraging expression. "Please. Let them hear what you think."

Lance's persona immediately drops, his face void of expression. "It's on you if someone starts crying again."

Shiro nods, then looks in the one-way mirror to his right. He waves, and three of Lance's family members enter the room; his mother, his older sister, and his grandfather.

They all sit on the couch adjacent to Lance.

"What has Lance done in the past week that has upset you, if anything, Antenita?" Shiro asks gently. The woman tenses up, similar to that of a small child hearing a clap of thunder. 

"N-nothing, really," she whispers. "He's been so nice. It's troublesome."

Lance hadn't said a word so far, instead heaving a sigh and letting his head loll back.

"Are you saying that Lance isn't usually nice?"

"It's just-" she hesitates, tucking a lock of black, coiling hair behind her ears. Her dark brown eyes are quickly becoming glossy. "Ever since... the incident, it's frightening. I can't tell whether he's lying or not."

"What incident?" Shiro cocks his head as Lance's eyelids droop in boredom. "Has something happened?"

"Lance threw a blade at me," Danielo--Lance's grandfather--states. "As you know, he is an incredible shot; nearly sliced my ear clean off. He has not been taking his medication and he had an episode."

A deep growl came from Lance as he glares at his grandfather.

"Drop the mask," Shiro says softly. Lance's scowl became directed at him and he tries not to flinch. "Remember what I said."

"I'm not wearing the mask!" Lance roars, standing. "I'm genuinely pissed the fuck off!"

"I don't know if you are," Shiro points out. "I never know when you're telling the truth."

"You got me there," Lance agrees, flinging his hat off of his head. It lands on the cherrywood table. "How should I act?" Lance asks softly. Mask on.

"Like a rational human being!" His mother sobs, covering her face. Lance glances at her briefly before scoffing. "I want my son back."

Mask off.

"You never had him, you fucking dumbass." Lance's words are sharp, like a whip cracking about his mother's love for him. "A façade is all it will ever be. Do you even hear yourself speak?!

"They explained, very clearly, what I am. I'm not even ashamed to know that I don't  _love you!"_

 _"Enough!"_ Shiro shouts. His head was pounding, nerves from his session with Lance taking a toll on him. The appointment wasn't even halfway over yet. "Do not speak to your mother like that."

Mask back on.

"I'm sorry," Lance whispers, hanging his head. "I-I don't mean it. I'm just frustrated."

"Oh, mijo. It's okay, I know you love me." Benita removes her hands, smiling up at her son. "You need to take your medication."

Lance wipes at his eyes and Shiro is surprised to see that they were wet. Actual tears were leaking from his eyes.

It's frightening, the amount of control Lance could have over people.

"I'm sorry, Mamí. And Antenita. And grand-papí." Lance runs a hand through his hair and sat back down with a sniffle. "It's just hard."

"It's fine, Lance," Antenita sighs and Lance's grandfather nods in agreement. "I know you can't help your feelings."

_What feelings?_

"He's playing you," Shiro says gently; Lance shoots him a discrete smirk. "You all should-"

"I know my son!" Benita snaps. Her small frame is trembling. "I know him..."

An awkward silence ensues before Shiro clears his throat.

"How are your grades lately, Lance?"

"Fine."

"That full-ride scholarship was nice to your family, wasn't it? Getting your Doctorate's degree at twenty-three is amazing."

"Especially when I was doing three majors at once, but who's counting?" Lance leans forward, squinting. "I'm not cruel, Shiro. I can see the way you look at me. I had a legitimate mental break when I  _murdered_ William. That's why I was put on medication.

"On a social spectrum, I have very little... emotions, I would say. Let's say one person--an average person--has a dial. Let's say everyone has a dial. While an average person's dial for emotion, such as anger, can go up to ten, mine is a different level. I go up to two. And I am not to blame for it."

Agitated tears--Shiro couldn't tell if they were real or not--gather in Lance's clear eyes. "I know I sometimes don't act like a human, but I am one. I'm not a monster. Stop treating me like one. Does it really help you to tell me to 'take my mask off'? If I'm trying to fit in with society, as you say, then how will doing that help?

"So no, I will not take this pretend mask off. This is who I am."

There was truth in Lance's words and Shiro was sure of that. But he is also playing it up. Time to change the subject.

"I apologize," he says, skeptical. "Let's talk about something else, shall we?"

"Sure."

"How's that play going?"

"My director said that there will be scouts there," Lance drawls. "Said I should try my best. Now I don't wanna do it, though."

"Lance," Shiro sighs. "You're halfway through your play, no? How would that make the rest of the cast feel?"

"Why does it matter? I'm better than them; it would make them look worse. It would be better for them and better for me."

"What's that song from Adventure Time?"

"Empathy, empathy, put yourself in the place of me," Lance mutters with a scowl. "So it would inconvenience them because they would have to work with someone new."

"Yes." Shiro nods with a small smile. "Do you understand why you can't just drop out?"

"Yeah," Lance says, frowning. "By the way, did you want a ticket? It would be nice if you could see me on stage. You know, an original production is a pretty big deal for talent scouts."

"Oh," Shiro involuntarily gasps. "Well, I'll, uh. I'll think about it."

"Cool," he smiles fondly before slapping his thighs and standing abruptly. "We got through a session partially, so I'm leaving. Ready, Mamí and all?"

The family he brought with him nods and stands. Shiro got to his feet as well, placing his clipboard on the table and walking them to the hall. Lance turns to him, blue eyes almost ominous in the dim lighting of the hallway.

"You didn't give me anything to do," he whispers coyly with a small laugh. "Stop slackin', Dr. Shirogane. Talk to you on Saturday." 

Lance saunters off with a flippant wave. He passes Keith with a bright smile. Keith flushes and gives a wave before pushing into Shiro's office. Shiro shut the door behind him.

Keith lowers himself in the couch across from Shiro's chair. He sits as well, finally letting his cheeks heat.

"Any progress with 'im?" Keith asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Not really. I can't tell with him." Shiro puts his glasses back on. "I don't know what to do with him. The more I find out, the more I want to hate him."

"What's so bad about this guy, huh?" Keith asks, leaning back. He loosens his tie. "You've dated that one guy with anxiety. That one neurotic guy. So what's the big deal?"

"Lance is-"

"Don't say he's special."

"He's a sociopath, God damn it." Shiro groans and drags a hand down his face. "He's a sociopath and I'm in love with his persona and him in fucking general. He's... I don't know. He's cute and funny. But, fuck, being in a relationship would be hard. It's practically unheard of for a sociopath to fall in love!"

Shiro hangs his head, gripping at his forehead. "He'd just use me, and I hate it. Fuck, I hate it. I hate that I'm so smitten with him."

Keith stares at Shiro before an insensitive bark of laughter escapes his mouth. Shiro frowns at him, yanking his own ponytail out and letting the soft hair fall.

"Wow, I am not opening that can of worms. Good luck, Shiro." Keith chuckles again, then directed his eyes to the table. "Is that your hat?"

"No," he responds, picking it up. "I'll return it to him soon." The front says  _Psycho but Cute._ Shiro couldn't help but laugh at the accuracy. 

 

Lance walks into the room, small hair clips holding his bangs back from his face. His cheeks are flushed and his entire body is covered in a light sheen of sweat. He walks over to his usual couch, sighing and groaning as he sits down. His tank top reads  _Emotions are for losers._

He spreads his legs, trunk shorts hanging loosely from his legs. Feet with plain black sandals lay flat on the floor.

"Hi," he says blandly. "How's it goin'?"

"Hot." Shiro is entirely too warm, what with the building's AC being out. His hair is up in a messy bun and instead of his usual lab coat and professional clothing, his coat was now draped over his chair and he wore a plain t-shirt with beige cargo shorts. "And you?"

"Hotter." Lance smirks then throws his head back. "I came into this building hoping that it would be cooler than this."

"AC machine broke." Shiro sighs, pushing his glasses up his nose. The sweat kept making them slide off. He hears Lance snicker.

"Understandable. Sucks."

"Yeah," Shiro says, sitting up straight. "So what happened in the last two days?"

"Nothing remarkable," Lance says, connecting eyes with Shiro. "Not really, at least."

"Let me rephrase. I need to know what happened even if it wasn't anything spectacular."

"I went out with a group of friends to our local terrarium. You know, the one where you can grow your own plants. Then this, this cunt-"

"Language."

"-she actually stepped on my flower vine. Like, high-key, stepped on it. And, you know, they're my favorite. Blue and purple morning glories are my shit. Did you know I picked those colors because it reminds me of you and me? Anyways-"

"W-what?"

"- she said that mine are 'ugly and need to be thrown in the trash.' So I was like 'at least my face has a gender.' Then she slapped me. She was obviously lying. My plant was definitely the best one there. Not as beautiful as me, though."

Narcissism, slight.

Shiro blinks at him for a moment, his cheeks tinged pink--and not from the heat. "How did that make you feel?"

"At most? A little annoyed."

"What did you do afterwards?"

"I didn't apologize, that's for sure. I spat on her small as shit avocado tree. Then we left."

"Lance."

"Okay, no," Lance starts, holding up a finger and squinting at Shiro. "Don't say my name like that. I did not instigate that fight. I'm quite obviously the better person in this regard."

"You have a point," Shiro agrees. "But you needed to apologize for your insult."

"I will not stoop to that plebeian's level. Why should I apologize if I don't mean it? I'm above that."

"You wouldn't ever apologize, then."

Lance smiles, dimples standing out. "Exactly. Let's play a game, Shiro."

"A game?"

"No, just kidding." Lance snorts, and maybe it should have been unattractive, but it's quite the opposite. "I want you to tell me what you thought of me when you first met me."

"I had hope for you," Shiro starts. "You didn't carry yourself as your mental condition would've let you. I guess I was wrong, though."

"No shit," Lance laughs lightly, cocking his head at Shiro. "I meant looks wise."

"I do not need to disclose that information to you." Shiro tries not to glare at Lance's conceited expression.

"You think I'm the cutest person you've ever met, don't you?"

And here comes more narcissism.

"No, Lance," Shiro says with a roll of his eyes. He peered at him curiously. "What did you think about me?"

"I thought you were a doctor that felt like he could heal anyone if he tried hard enough. I thought they told you that you're the best doctor in this state." Lance smirks. "I was right about that. I also thought you were really hot."

"Is that so?"

"Still are." Lance nods, then gestured to Shiro's hair. "I love my men with long hair. That bun is a good look on you. Plus the stubble is nice."

"Thanks," Shiro says sarcastically, ignoring the look that Lance was giving him. That casual yet calculating stare as if he were weighing Shiro. "I'm so glad you think I'm attractive."

"You like me," Lance grins, face lighting up. He hates that his smile makes his heart stutter. "I know you do."

"Incorrect," Shiro responds, pushing his glasses up again. "How could I?"

"I dunno," Lance murmurs, a shy smile on his face. "Falling for me would be weird, right?" He laughs awkwardly, leaning back in his seat. "Nevermind."

Shiro fell right into his trap, then, not even realizing he had.

"That's not why I couldn't fall for you, Lance," Shiro sighs. "You're a patient of mine and I'm married."

"No you're not," Lance scoffs with a flick of his wrist. "I'm not a moron, Shiro."

"Okay, fine. I'm not. But it would be inappropriate and people like you--no offense-"

"Full offense taken."

Shiro gives him a rare scowl. "You wouldn't be able to love me, Lance. That's just your mentality."

"That's not true," Lance says, his voice soft. Shiro's resolve wavers a small fraction. "You know it's not."

"Remember when you used that emotional dial example? Love is a deep feeling. A feeling you can't even begin to develop properly."

"But I can try," Lance insists. "I can show affection. Is that why?"

"Can we continue our session as usual? I'm the thera-"

"I just wanna know if I can be loved." His voice is small and Lance visibly curls in on himself, eyes clenching shut and hands going into fists. Shiro wanted nothing more than to reach out, but refrains himself from doing so.

"Of course you can be loved. Your family loves you immensely. I'm sure others do too, romantically. Now, this isn't the best advice, but when you date a person, don't tell them about your condition."

"That's dishonest." Lance smiles. "I like it."

"I can't tell if you're kidding or not."

"That's where I want you, Doctor."

Shiro blushes then, frowning. "Yes, well... congratulations on getting me right where you want me."

"You're not quite there yet, Doctor," Lance says, suggestive grin in place. "See, you on your knees? That's where I want you."

He sighs heavily, shifting in his seat. "Too bad that's not where you're going to get me."

Lance pouts and blinks at Shiro. "That's what you think." He pulls a ticket stub out of his pocket and places it on the table with a small smile.

"Thanks for the ticket."

_"No problemo, guapo."_

 

"Can I play with your hair?"

Shiro raises an eyebrow without looking up from his papers. He's going over Lance's medical records and medication.

"Why?" He asks distractedly, deciding to raise his dosage of Prozac a tad. "Something wrong with it?"

"No," Lance responds, looking up at Shiro. He had opted for sitting cross-legged in front of him. Shiro glances over his clipboard and into deep blue eyes. "It looks soft."

"You've never seen my hair out." Shiro's eyebrow doesn't lower. "How would you know?"

"It just looks like it is," Lance grumbles, still maintaining eye contact. "Can I--pretty please with a cherry on top--play with it?"

Shiro thinks it over for a moment. "Alright, fine. Afterwards, though, we need to continue our session."

Lance nods excitedly, standing up. Shiro scoots forward and lets himself fall to the floor softly. Lance steps over him, sinking into the seat with Shiro sat in between his legs.

A tug at his hair tie and his hair fell down in gentle curtains. He hears Lance let out a small squeak as he runs his fingers through Shiro's hair. He shudders, attempting to remember the last time someone had touched him so simply.

"So black," Lance mutters, once again running a hand through Shiro's hair. "And heavy. You must moisturize often."

"Just shea butter," Shiro responds, eyelids fluttering once he felt the pads of Lance's fingers tangle in his hair. "No special shampoo or anything."

"That's a lie." Lance snorts, fingers dragging carelessly through his hair. "It's so silky and smooth. Is this white hair natural?"

"I swear," Shiro sighs, letting the clipboard fall into his lap. He shifts, getting more comfortable in between Lance's legs. "I don't... put anything in it... Natural..."

"You okay, doctor?" Lance's fingers pause.

"Don't stop," Shiro meant to complain, but it came out like a needy whine. His eyes pop open, cheeks turning red. Lance tenses up. "S-sorry. Uh, I'm fine."

When Lance doesn't react, Shiro looks up at him. His ears and across his cheekbones are a gorgeous maroon. He swallows, leaning back and digging his fingers into Shiro's scalp.

God damn it, that's adorable.

"Good." Lance's voice cracks and he clears his throat. "Are you planning on coming to the play?"

"Yeah," Shiro replies, absentmindedly nuzzling into Lance's knee as he closes his eyes. He could hear a vague high-pitched whimper. "I'll come."

"For me?"

"Yes." Lance snickers. "Wow, are you twelve?"

"On the Mohs scale, that's how hard I am for you."

Shiro couldn't respond, instead a sound rumbling from his throat as Lance rubs circles into his roots.

This is completely inappropriate. A patient and doctor should not be involved like this. A patient should not be running orgasmic massages over his doctor's scalp. A doctor should not be letting this happen. 

And yet, here they are.

Shiro's eyes open and he stares in front of him. Lance's fingers don't stop in his hair as he speaks.

"I have one of your hats," he says softly. Lance hums. "It's the one that says 'Psycho but Cute'."

"Applies to me," Lance says, running blunt fingers nails in Shiro's scalp. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head.

He doesn't hear the knock on the door, only the "Come in!" that Lance shouts. He peers at the door as it opens.

"Shiro-" Keith pauses, eyes flickering between Lance and Shiro. He grows hot, looking away from an aghast Keith. "Uh, am I interrupting something here?"

"Nope!" Lance chirps. One of his hands trail down to the nape of Shiro's neck, making him shiver. "A perfectly normal session going in here with a super hot doctor and an even hotter patient."

Keith's eyebrows flatten, an unimpressed look passing over his face. "Really. Normal."

"This isn't normal," Shiro hisses, scrambling to get on his hands and knees. A sudden slap on his ass startles him into looking over his shoulder. "McClain!"

"I saw a chance and I took it!" Lance defends with an innocent smile. "Don't pretend you didn't like it, doctor."

Shiro can feel the waves of judgement radiating from Keith. He ducks his head as he stands up, ignoring a rather crude comment about his ass from Lance.

"He wanted to play with my hair, so I let him," Shiro mumbles, staring at the floor. "Besides, no harm no foul."

He looks up when Keith scoffs incredulously. "Sure, Shiro. This won't help with your cru-"

"Credibility! Yes, I know that if Lance tells someone I'll be in trouble, I got it Keith, I know that this was inappropriate on so many levels, please don't tell Allura she'll absolutely have my balls on a platter, oh my-"

Shiro is cut off from his rambling when he feels a tug on his labcoat. He turns to face Lance, whom sits with an unknown gleam in his eye. There's something there that Shiro can't quite place.

"Yes?"

"You're cute," Lance says, an indulgent smile on his face. It's amazingly endearing with the impish way his lips curl and the crinkling of the corners of his eyes. "Just calm down, yeah?"

"Sure," Shiro whispers, aware that Keith is watching. "I'm good."

"Besides, if I told, I wouldn't get to see your sexy self ever again," Lance pouts, "I need my nearly daily eye candy."

"Yeah, okay."

"I'll just come back when you're done here..." Keith trails off, leaving. Lance is still grinning when Shiro looks back at him.

"You better dress nicely for my play."

Shiro looks off into the distance, wondering how his life would pan out if he were to be in a play.

"Act I is over. Act II will be written soon."

"What."

"What?"

**Author's Note:**

> *SCREAMS FROM THE VOID*
> 
> I PROMISE I'LL WRITE A HALLOWEEN FIX OK, BUT DO I DO SHANCE OR KLANCE??


End file.
